Prophecy of Light and Shadow
by animek22x
Summary: The adults used to tell us that the desert came from people's time running out. Their hourglasses in heaven were poured on the ground, so we could remember them. I always wondered, "When will my sand join theirs?" But if I were half the thief I was born to be, I'd just steal more time. After all, Link, and I wasted enough of it trying to kill my King. OoT retelling. OC main.
1. Feeding a Grudge

**A/N: I really hope you guys like it! I tried my hardest with this one, and I'm kind of proud of it! :*) Let me know what you think, how I can improve, etc. Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it! **

The sun drenches my face in a penetrating light that turns the insides of my eyelids red. I sit up and stretch, snapping the seams of my flannels. The sand outside the window burns a golden brown, attacking the Fortress in bomb-like gusts of wind. You can hear it, shifting in the adobe's mortar, like snakes. I listen for a moment before throwing off the covers and crossing my loft bedroom to my drawer. It's not really a drawer, but an old leather-bound chest used to store a variety of things. When I first moved in, I thought it'd be demeaning to call it a chest, so since then it's been called my drawer, or wardrobe, or dresser. The full-length mirror beside it shows fractured versions of me as I change, as though it were the eye of a Skulltula. The stupid thing's been cracked since before I was born. Speaking of which, why was I born so… _different_? I'm the only one in the tribe with blue hair and maroon eyes, in a sea of red and gold. I look like a blueberry in these student's clothes – blue tank top, with matching pants and sandals. _I wonder if we pop _you_, you'll bleed as red as those berries!_ I shudder and tear away from the mirror, trying not to remember their words.

Ransacking my dresser reaps a small bottle of skin salve. By some celestial joke I am deathly pale, and burn instead of tan, so to keep from dying in the heat, I have to put it on every morning. I dip into its contents and set to work.

I barely finish when there's pounding at my door.

"Get _up_! You're _late_!" The voice is loud, raspy, and angry.

"Yes ma'am!" Throwing the unclosed jar on the bed, I dash down the ladder to the ground floor and grab my katana and shield.

"Took you long enough," she hisses when the door opens. Her hair is flaming red, and pulled into a tight bun. Her skin is tan. Standard traits of a Gerudo woman – of every Gerudo woman, except me. Her stare shakes me to the core, especially when she has her arms crossed and all of her weight on her back leg. Much like she does now. The head of the Warrior Dorm is displeased with me. Again.

"I'm sorry, Head Mistress Shula," I mutter. "I had agriculture yesterday…" Education consists of a three-day rotation. The first day you train in your chosen profession. The second, you learn reading, writing, arithmetic, and history. The third day, agriculture, is work done in the oases, tending crops, plowing, sowing, watering… It's not easy, especially for first-years, ten-and-eleven-year-olds like me.

"That's no excuse! If you want to succeed, you must learn to be punctual! I will _not _come wake you again, Anali, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Head Mistress."

"Go on now! Get to practice. " She waves me off and I hasten for the door.

The sun beats us like a club. Wind and sand whip our bodies, pelting our clothes and sticking everywhere, making us windblown and gritty. Our teacher bellows commands that we barely hear, but know from the repetition. Each class stands in rows of ten, myself and the twenty-nine other first-years wearing blue. The second years, beside us in yellow, follow the shouts of a different teacher. Beyond them, the third years, in green, are sparring. Fourth through graduating years are to the west of camp.

"LUNGING STRIKE!" I leap forward and spin through the air, muscles tense,but fall on the landing, ending up in the dirt. Why can I never get that move? Is my weapon throwing me off balance? The girls around me snicker as I get up, but I brush myself off and ignore them."AGAIN!" In unison: Punch, punch, block, kick, upward strike, sweep kick, lunging strike, repeat. Over, and over: Punch, punch, block, kick, upward strike, sweep kick, lunging strike, punch, punch, block, kick, upward, sweep, lunge, punch, punch, upward – No, that's not right…

Finally, we switch to blocking techniques, using partners, then to kicks around noon, when the wind has died. When at last she orders us to stop, we keel over, gasping in unison. Gerudo sweat, but we don't dehydrate very easily. That's why we're out here so early, and so long, when humans would be dead in a few hours. A shadow looms over me and when I look up, I see a friendly face. I grin.

"Hi, Abana!" She smiles, swiping hair from her eyes.

"Hey Anali," she replies, helping me stand. Her gold eyes spark, her skin radiating with sweat. She looks striking in her dark green uniform, the first bumps of breasts starting to show on her chest. "Still no luck with that lunging strike, huh?"

I shake my head. "Is it that obvious?"

She just smiles and lays a hand on my shoulder. "Kind of. Don't worry – you'll get it. I had trouble with that one, too."

Her being older makes me inclined to believe her.

"LUNCH!" Our instructor, Miarh, calls to us from the shade of an old ruin. "Get going before the good stuff's taken!" There's a collective whoop, and the lot of us clear out.

Getting to the 'good stuff' is harder than it looks when walking single file in the mess hall. We wind up with lentil soup and rolls. As soon as we sit down, we're offered a flask of beer. Abana drinks, smiling as it goes down. She passes it around the table, and when it finally gets to me, I chug what little there's left. I used to hate the stuff – but as it's offered daily, I've gotten used to the taste, and have even come to like it.

"Did you hear?" A second-year gushes. "The guards caught _men_ today! _Hyrulian men._"

Abana gasps. "What? And we weren't around to see them? That's not fair!"

"I know! I heard the guards talk of spies, but the prisoners claim they're merchants…"

"Yeah, right," I scoff. "Hyrule is always up to something. They're no good, dirty sons of Wolfos'."

An older girl nods. "Been that way since the war began! First they stick us with the Mirror, and now they're spying on us?"

A warrior in pink pounds the table with her fist, shaking it. "No one's supposed to talk about that!" We fall silent.

It's common knowledge that after the war, the Hylians forced the Mirror, the key to a prison dimension, on us. They didn't want the Interlopers' stain on their land, so they bullied us into accepting it ourselves. It was fitting, they said, since most of the Interlopers were _our _people anyway. Even the infamous witches, Koume and Kotake, were said to be involved. When the Desert Goddess sent the light spirits to quell the fighting, she spared their lives by ordering the creation of the Mirror. Not even the Hylians were as lucky. Bitter and denying that their own _servants_ were Interlopers, they threatened to cut nutritional aid from the treaty. The King, Abana's age then, chose our hunger over our pride, and agreed to keep the Mirror in our borders. Our gracious, gracious king…

I'm brought out of my thoughts by the laughter and cheering of women, who sing drinking songs and down beer. A few sing hymns of praise. At the head table, overlooking our dining, are the King's officials, scarred women in dark green and red. Towards the middle, Princess Nabooru sits with her hands clasped on the table. She's like human iron, with eyes like stones. To her left is Ganondorf, the King of Thieves. But something's wrong. None of them are eating. There's no food at their table, when normally they're chowing on fish and pastry and other delicacies. King Ganondorf looks smug, gold-laced fingers forming a web that blocks half his face.

He stands as we're preparing to leave.

"My people," he booms, opening his arms to embrace us all. "I bring you good news, and better news!" Looks and whispers are exchanged around me. They're confused, excited. Maybe it's about the Hyrulian men? Nabooru's face is a stone mask.

"I am pleased to announce that the dispute over the terms of our treaty with Hyrule is over." An unexpected wave of cheers startles me. He just smiles, appeased. "Even better, the King of Hyrule has invited me, the Princess, and a band of my choosing to an audience with him this coming week. There we shall celebrate the final verdict: Hyrule will aid our struggle with hunger!" More cheers. Louder. Ganondorf lifts his arms higher, voice booming louder. "I want every girl below the age of fourteen to join me in my trek to Hyrule! When its king sees how many he has fed, he will not _dare_ refuse us!" The cheers resound so loudly that my ears ring and I think I'm going deaf. Ganondorf's smile takes up half his face. Only Princess Nabooru remains still.


	2. Hate The Players, Hate The Game

**A/N: Woohoo! :) I really enjoyed writing this chapter! I tried my best to portray the Gerudo's side of things well. What do you think? I did some research on , (fave website for anything Zelda related!) so I think I got most everything right... Anyway, guys, enjoy! **

I have no focus. The ongoing conversation is too important. Our instructors are talking politics behind us, but I can only hear parts of it, because I'm too busy getting beaten up.

"…guilt trip," Miarh whispers. "He's using youth to gain sympathy. Very shrewd..."

My partner, Ira, kicks me in the back. I flinch, but keep listening.

"Come on Anali, _block_!" She shoves hair from her eyes, breathing heavily, face taut and eyes flaring. Her scimitars glint in the sun.

"Sorry…" I go through the motions, countering with weak, pretend strikes and letting my arm bend when she hits my shield. She growls under her breath.

"But is it worth our freedom?" The teacher in yellow asks. "He had to trade…" Pain wracks my stomach. Again, I flinch, but keep my ears open. Trade? Trade what?

"_Attack_, blast you!" Her blades come down in a heavy jumping strike, forcing me to push back. I see an opening and kick her in the midsection, making her stumble.

"We'll get to stay here, won't we?" Miarh argues. I block a punch to the face. "We'll have food."

"Food, but no pride! Since when does a Gerudo let herself be shamed?" The one in green spits in the sand. "Their weapons on our soil I could handle, their language, a stretch, but I cross the line at…" I dodge a lunging strike and silently beg them for more, half turning to look at them.

"So what if we're no longer a separate…?" There's a sudden, hot slice in my arm. I scream, startled, and claw at the blood. I can feel it, wet and sticky.

"OW! That _hurt_ Ira!"

"You would have seen it coming if your _head_ wasn't in the clouds!"

"That doesn't mean you can _cut _me!"

"Then _pay attention_ you stupid blueberry!"

I flinch.

"What's going on over there?"

I tear up, turning as Miarh saunters over. Why am I _crying?_ Oh, this is _so_ humiliating! "Ira cut me and it stings really bad…"

"_She_ wasn't paying attention!" She points a scimitar at me, indignant.

"Anali, is that true?" Miarh's tone is gentle, but I look down anyway, at the blood racing towards my elbow. "It's sparring. Aren't you supposed to be alert?" I nod, sniffling. My throat's closed up. She takes my arm – the uninjured one – and leads me away, towards the other instructors. They ask if I'm ok. I just nod.

"Let's get you cleaned up…" Miarh sits me down on a piece of rubble, and kneels in front of me. I move my hand to let her see the damage. "Oh, yeah, she _got _you all right." She dips a finger into some salve and rubs it over my cut. It's smooth and warm, blood tinting it a pale green-pink. The stinging eases immediately.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's ok." She wipes at the blood trail with a towel. "You're usually so focused. What's got you so out of it today?" But I'm not paying attention. The yellow and green instructors are still talking, but they've drifted away from us, and I can't hear what they're saying. I strain my ears, shutting my eyes to make them sharper, but all I pick up are muddled whispers.

Miarh smiles. "Ah, so _that's _what's got you so interested." Heat rises to my face, and I look at her. "Don't worry about it. I was a gossipy kid, too."

"Kid?" I mutter. "You're only sixteen…"

She just laughs. "Hey, I'm allowed! Legal adult, remember?"

"I guess…So what _is _going on? Didn't King Ganondorf save us?"

"Yes," her eyes turn grave. "But for a price." I cringe. 'Price' is a dirty word to us, except when _we're_ getting paid.

"What…_price_?"

"We are no longer independent," she says, eyes dropping to the ground. "We are now Hyrulians."

"_No!_" I leap to my feet, startling her. "_How_ can we be _Hyrulians_? How could the King _do_ this to us?" She stands, shushing me, hands on my shoulders, weighing me down.

"The oases are growing less every year. We can't survive here much longer without help, and we have nowhere else to go! His Grace had to choose between our freedom and hunger. He chose our hunger." He's always chosen our hunger.

"It's not FAIR!" I stomp my foot, tears filling my eyes. "I _hate_ the Hylians! Why do I have to _be_ with them? They're blasphemous, and hateful, and greedy, and strict, and sexist! I'd rather be _dead_ than bear their name!"

"I know, Anali," Miarh whispers. "I know. The Princess isn't happy about it either."

"Then take it up with _her_! Make _her_ change the treaty!"

"You know it doesn't work like that. Hyrule had an edge over us the whole time. As long as we were hungry, we would do whatever they wanted."

"It's not _fair…_" I wipe my eyes. "It's not _fair_…"

"I know it isn't. Hyrule will give us food in exchange for our allegiance to them. We'll submit to their currency, their religion, their laws…but we'll be Gerudo at heart; they can't take _that_ from us."

"But what about King Ganondorf? If the King of Hyrule is _our _king…"

She smiles. "Like I said, Anali. We're Gerudo." Her voice drops low. "And we don't _play _by the rules."

My hair almost looks pretty in the moonlight. Sitting against the window in the dark, I let it stream in. I rub my hands together, to warm up. My flannels aren't doing the trick. That's the thing about the desert. Hotter than anything one moment, plunging cold the next. I hate cold more than heat. It feels unnatural, like it shouldn't exist. Those words 'shouldn't exist…' They're like an arrow in the chest.

_Blue-berry, blue-berry! You're a sour blue-berry!_

_You're not a girl, _you're _a _fairy!

_Was the Goddess of the Sand craving _fish _when she made you?_

_I_ shouldn't exist.

I pull a blanket over my head, to block out their words. Even now the nicknames survive, thriving with me outside the orphanage. Wind knocks against the Fortress' walls. They groan. There's so much pain here, but I wouldn't trade it for the world. I just wish I wasn't different, that I wasn't…an afterthought. When I turned ten, and the weapon smiths ran short on supplies, they stuck me with a Hylian weapon. But because we believe in fate, I'm not allowed to switch to another weapon, now that there's more. The sword and shield I fight with now don't match the style we're taught, knocking me off balance. Setting me up for failure.

_I_ am a failure.

Hot tears crawl down my face. Humiliation and shame well up in my chest, fighting to break through. Alone, in the dark, I let them, wracking my lungs with cough-like sobs. It hurts to cry, what with the bruises forming where Ira hit me. I wince and end up crying more. When it's over, my eyes ache, and I rub them, frustrated. I shouldn't be crying over stupid things. Not out here, in the desert, where water and salt mean survival. I sit up, and the blanket slides off me, letting the cold wrap around me instead. I shiver. More wind howls. I should get some water, to replace the tears I just shed… There's something on my bed. Something rough and flaky.

"Keese droppings!" It's my skin salve. I growl and salvage what I can, though most of it is dry and useless now. So is the stuff inside. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I screw the lid onto the jar and put it back in my dresser – wishing I could just _smash_ it. There's silence for a moment – and then I punch the wall. "Screw this! SCREW THIS! _AARGH!_" I keep punching until tears well up again, which only frustrates me _more_. My knuckles hurt, my eyes hurt, my arm hurts, and my chest hurts, _everything_ hurts! I shake my head, breathing slowly, and turning. It's no use now…better go back to bed.

Something glints in the moonlight. My shield: circular, blue, and brandished with the Hyrule family crest. A shiny reminder that in exchange for misery, I no longer have my freedom.

"And it's all because of _you_," I whisper, colder than the air around me. "_You_ put me in this prison." Then, something happens in my head. Something clicks. And suddenly, I'm smiling. "But you don't realize, do you? I'm a _Gerudo_. And I don't _play _by your rules."


	3. Do You Believe In Magic?

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this chapter, guys! I really tried to make this one longer. Can someone please tell me how to separate paragraphs more clearly, like, into sections? I've tried double spacing, and I've tried astericks, but nothing works! T.T Help me! Anyway, hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading. **

**Edit: Oh yeah, and another thing... How is Anali's character? Is she too adult? Too much of a kid, just right...? Let me know what you think! :) **

At the sound of footsteps, I flatten against the wall and silence my breathing. Luckily, the guards are just as tired as I am, so they won't see me in the shadows, between the light of two torches. Still in my black flannels, and barefoot, despite the chill, I hope I've provided myself with enough cover to make it to the library. Once there, I'll dig up all I can on the Mirror, where it is, how it works, everything, and find a way to unleash its prisoners upon Hyrule.

Serves them right.

A guard passes me, and goes around a corner. I count her footsteps, waiting for them to fade. Then I make a run for it, down a darkened hallway. My feet slap against the adobe tiles, hurting, and I pray no one can hear me.

Someone calls from the abyss. "Who's there?"

The soles of my feet scream as I skid to a stop. Another guard! Keese crap! What do I do? A shadow comes around the corner, basked in torch light. A stack of boxes is pushed against the wall. I dive behind one, and wait.

"Who's _there_, I said?" Footsteps, getting louder. I cover my mouth. "Come out!" She's so close I can hear the slap of her weapons against her thighs. I press closer to the wall. Her shadow passes over me. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me…

"I'll find you!" Danger tinges her tone. "I could hear you running… You have nowhere to hide!" Her shadow climbs up the wall, and her steps grow louder. Oh, Goddess no… She's coming _closer!_ !

"Mari!"

Death's head snaps up. "What?"

"Come here! I need your help with something!"

"….All right. Be right there." Her shadow recedes down the wall again – she's backing up – and then she turns, and heads down the hall.

I wait for silence.

And then gasp for breath. Taking a minute to slow my heartbeat, I keep an ear out for more guards. There are no footsteps, so I should be safe. Standing I keep close to the shadowed side of the wall, walking slowly, listening.

And then I realize. The library is just around the corner!

"You're going to get yourself _killed! _This is suicide!"

I freeze. It's Nabooru! Panicking, I search for another hiding spot. Beside me is a storage closet. I slip inside and close the door, covering my mouth, and taking deep breaths. The smell of mold and parchment fills my nose. This is really getting old, fast. There's silence.

Maybe she didn't hear me. I can't hear anything. I press my ear to the door, close my eyes, and listen in.

"That's a chance I'm going to have to take." Lord Ganondorf? What is _he _doing here? "I know their ways better than _anyone_."

"You are _going_ to end up like those in the Mirror!"

The Mirror? Could His Majesty have the same plan I do? I smile at the thought.

"The Interlopers were fools. I am not a fool. In three days' time, we will make that march to Hyrule, and bow before its King. But that will be the last time we bow to anyone."

"What are you planning?" She sounds suspicious. The nothingness surrounding them is tense, dark, questioning.

"There is a certain… _artifact_ within Hyrule's walls. If I can get to it, all of our problems will be solved."

"The Triforce, you mean."

The _Triforce_? That actually exists? I thought it was a myth from Hylian religion!

"Yes. I've read the scriptures – I _know _how to get it. But I need your support." His voice…it's…gentle. "Will you help me, Nabooru? If not for me, do it for your family. You don't want your little girl to suffer any more than she has to…Do you?"

Silence. A hard, torn silence. You can feel the choice in the air. It's strange. Until now, I never knew the Princess had a family. Why is she hesitating? If it were me, I'd _jump_ at the chance! What better way to get back at the Hylians than to shove their own power in their faces? It's perfect!

"I…" She sighs, defeated. "I'll do it. Let me know what I can do to help. Just…don't get anyone else involved." Her quick steps echo down the hall, and soon disappear. It's like she can't get away from him fast enough. Lord Ganondorf chuckles.

"Perfect." He lumbers away. It's strange, the difference in sound between a man and a woman's steps. His are heavier, more careless. It's harder for me to guess how far away he is.

When at last I judge he's gone, I breathe a sigh of relief. Why does he want to steal the Triforce? It's a genius idea, but…very, very risky. How on earth does he plan to pull it off, and what would it do for us anyhow? He said something about scripture, but… How would that help? My mind is spinning. Maybe it's from the smell. I slip back through the door, and breathe clean air. Much better.

Wait. My plan wouldn't interfere with Lord Ganondorf's…would it? I shiver at the thought. I'd hate to mess him up. But then again… what if he fails? I could still do the research, and set everything up…just in case. I could be a hero! Smiling at the thought, I enter the library and light a candle. Of the many places in the Fortress where maintenance is crucial, this is not one of them. Dust covers everything, from tables to chairs, to the bookshelves themselves. Cobwebs decorate every corner. There's a faint smell of mold, and a few stains – from beer, or water, or something – mark the table.

The rows of thick tomes are daunting, but I steel myself and start looking. The nonfiction and history books are in the back, so I start there, with the ones that aren't as dusty. Row by row of shelves carries import and export figures, birth and death certificates, ancient texts I can't read… At last, I find what I'm looking for: a set of war records. Setting the candle on the table behind me and remove it from the shelf, coughing as dust rains down on me. I listen carefully a moment. There's no one coming. I open to the first page. All the records are written in a thin, scrawling hand that's hard to read by candlelight.

"Come on, come on…where _is_ it?" I mutter, tearing through the thin, vellum pages. Introduction of the Interlopers, the battle for the Triforce – it's so weird to think it actually exists! They only teach it in connection with the Hylians! No, no, no…Allies fall, unification, establishment of a treaty… There! In thick, black ink, is the Gerudan word, "Mirror."

"'_Treaty takes bad turn – Mirror to remain inland. Location: roof. Mechanism: boulder, held belowground.'"_

What is _that _supposed to mean? Belowground _where_?

"'_Required: Magic; see volume III section M.'"_

That's it? You're kidding, right? They couldn't have bothered to write down what _kind_ of magic? Sighing, I flip the book over to its spine. Volume I. Great. I scan the bookshelf for its kin. I find II and IV, but no III. Oh, _Keese_ droppings, why didn't I think of this _before_? They probably hid the stupid thing on purpose so no one could do what I was planning to do. Desert Goddess! This _stinks!_ I jam the book back into the shelf, pulsing with anger. I blow out the candle and leave, too upset to care if I'm caught.

"Hey!" A gruff voice makes me jump. "What are you doing up so late?" It's a guard, coming up behind me. Well, I'm screwed. Unless…

"Huh? Who? Wha…?" I whirl around, doing my best to look confused and frightened. At last I turn to her. "Where…where am I?"

"Near the library," She says, voice muffled by a purple cloth. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know, I… The last thing I remember is going to bed, and the next thing I know, I'm… I'm here!" I shiver. No acting required on that part. It's cold as all heck down here.

"You must have been sleep-walking. It's all right, don't be scared." Her hand goes on my shoulder. "Come on. I'll take you back to your room."

She leads me away, hand on my back, past the other guards, who watch us as we pass. We must make a strange pair: a grown, masked woman in purple and a scrawny, barefooted first-year, who's shaking so much, her hair may as well be made of icicles. When we get to my door, she moves her hand away. I immediately miss the warmth.

"Be sure to lock your door, next time, in case this happens again." I nod.

"Good night," I murmur.

"Good night, and sleep well." She claps me on the shoulder, and takes off down the hall. The light has changed, when I walk in the room. It's a lighter blue, now. My eyes hurt from spending half the night searching. Searching and finding nothing.

As I slide in bed, finally warm, the last thing I feel a sense of exhausted failure.

The door smashes against the wall when I push it open. The whole class jumps, and turns around.

"I'm really sorry, Mistress!" I say through panted breaths. "I…I was up really late, and…"

"Calm down, Anali," she says, looking at me over her shoulder. She's writing something on the blackboard. "One of the guards told me you might be late." Some of the girls giggle and as my face flushes, I realize why. I must look like a sandstorm hit me. I literally rolled out of bed, changed, and came to class. I take a seat in the back and run a hand through my hair, opening a textbook to the page written on the board. We're going over history now. Maybe…maybe this could work in my favor. I skim the chapter. Yes! It's on the terms of the treaty! I guess that counts as history, since the war is officially over…

I raise my hand. "Mistress Hinaj… What happened to the Mirror?" Everyone turns to look at me again.

"My… dear child, why would you want to know about _that_?" She puts a hand to her chest, taken aback.

Uh oh. Maybe I should have thought this out a little better. "Um…well…" I can feel my face flushing. "I just thought…it wasn't fair that so many of our people were locked away, when…m-most of the Interlopers weren't Gerudo…"

Her eyes turn serious. "Yes… I suppose you could say that. The Mirror itself is unusable, unless paired with a certain object," She must mean the boulder the records mentioned. "That object would act as a gateway into the prisoner's world. No idea how that would work, though…"

"I heard the Interlopers used magic? What kind of magic? Gerudan? I heard Koume and Kotake were part of…" It clicks.

"That's quite enough, Anali. You know we shouldn't be talking about this…"

"But why don't we just let them all out, if we can?" I ask, regretting it as soon as I said it. "Why not let Hyrule have a taste of its own medicine?"

"Because they'll crush us," she snaps. I flinch. "Just as they did before. Now, if you've finished, please turn to page three hundred and two."

I look down, into my text, not really focusing. No, they won't crush us.

Not when Lord Ganondorf has the Triforce. When he does, I'll set everyone free. Kick the Hylians while they're down, just like they did to us.

Koume and Kotake created the Mirror. That means it takes Gerudan magic to activate it.

It's time for a prison break. All I need is a way to open the gates.


	4. Cupid Arrow, Shatter Me

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for all the views and feedback, you've been really great! If you would, will you please send me more feedback? It really helps me out and I enjoy hearing from you! :) I hope you like this chapter, and hopefully they'll get longer over time! This chapter marks the addition of clearly marked sections! Thank you horseridersierra195 for helping me out! Anali begins the change a little in this one, and I want to ask you: Is it too sudden? Does this chapter have continuity issues in regards to her character? XD I'm not really sure, as it's SOOO late! XD Thanks again, enjoy!**

**I don't own the Legend of Zelda series! All rights go to Nintendo. I own Anali, Abana, Shula... most of the characters so far! XD And DA as well. TalTal190 owns TalTal. **

XXX

"You've been awfully quiet, Anali," Abana says around a bite of food. I glance at her, frowning into my tumbler. "Are you ok?"

"I dunno, just tired…" I take a swig of beer and lay my head on the table, using my arms as pillows. A smile curls at my lips as I feel the drink slide down. It's comforting, now, the safest thing in the world. I lift my head and down the rest.

"Whoa there, take it easy! Do you think you've had a bit too much?"

"No," I groan, head in the table again. "I was just… I had a rough night."

"I heard. News of your night escapade is all through camp."

"Ugh, Goddess… Do these people _ever _stop talking?"

She giggles, swallowing. "No, no they don't. What else can you expect from a tribe full of ladies?"

"I guess…"

"You really _aren't _yourself." She sounds worried. It's true. I've been feeling very antisocial today, very isolated, and very… _evil_. It's like I shouldn't go forward with my plan. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but there's this pressure weighing down on me. It's the pressure of secrecy, of isolated action. Pressure I cannot share with anyone, not even Abana. If I tell her what I'm planning, I'll sound _crazy_! Maybe I am crazy! Maybe I'm a crazy psychopath that has no business being in this world. But if I am, it's because of _them_ – the Hylians. They're the cause of everything. "Does your stomach hurt? Don't tell me you're a woman already!"

"I'm _fine_. And no, I'm not." I'm really not fine, but what else can I say? _'I'm anxious about my plot to sic a band of banished criminals on Hyrule?' _"Sleepwalking takes a number, I'll tell you…" I sit up and stretch. "So what else did you hear through the grape vine?"

She has to rub her chin on this one. I don't really care, mind you – I just needed something to get her to shut up. It's like she's tapping the glass of a fish bowl, and I'm the fish inside. I see fishbowls in books sometimes. It seems cruel to trap the poor things in such small containers.

"Hmm… Not much. Just that the prisoners are refusing to talk, and were moved to the dungeon, and…"

Wait. Dungeon… Belowground… Goddess – that's _perfect_! Why not put something so crucial in the underground cells, and have it look like a torture device? Provided of course, the right mechanisms were attached… But how am I going to get the stupid thing up to the _roof_? No way in heck would I be able to lift it, unless I had the Silver Gauntlets, which are locked away in the Spirit Temple, and wouldn't help anyway, since they're made for adults…

"Wait, sorry, what did you say?" Shaking my head, I look up at Abana, having completely forgotten she existed.

"I said the Princess completed the Training Grounds today – the final level."

"The level with the ice arrows?" She nods. It clicks. Ice arrows. Kotake. Gerudo magic. Oh, Goddess… I'm going to have to steal from the Princess! Unless… "Has anyone else managed to get them?"

"Not that I know of," she sips beer from her tumbler. "As far as I know, it's just her." Oh, Keese crap, I think I'm gonna puke…

I take a deep breath. "Abana…?"

"Yeah? What's up?"

"You're…taught archery in your year…right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you…teach me? I wanna…get a head start." I fear for a moment that she'll see through me. That she'll catch my lie and ask me for the real reason, and then everything will spill out and I won't be able to stop it…but then she smiles.

"Sure! We'll start right after lunch is over. Today's the easy day, after all."

"Uh, yeah," I manage a half-hearted smile as I try to hold down my terror – and my lunch. But mostly my lunch.

XXX

We're in an area of the desert that I am mostly unused to. While it's true that this shooting range is meant for those on horses, that doesn't mean it can't serve our purposes as well. Now if only the targets weren't so high up… I shiver.

"Don't worry!" Abana claps me on the back. "My teacher says that if you can hit _those,_" she points to the highest targets, "you can hit anything. Here, lemme show you." She raises her training bow – a little wooden thing with a loose string – aims for a target to the left, and shoots. Bull's-eye. She looks at me, smiling. "There. Now you try!"

"You aren't making me feel very confident…" I mumble, taking the bow. She just laughs. I try to copy her stance, and I can feel myself shaking.

"Here, stand like this, and hold it like…" Suddenly she's fixing me all over, my posture, my grip, everything. My hand hurts as she makes adjustments, the knuckles white from holding the arrow for so long. "There, see? Now shoot." I let go and watch the arrow fly. It's exhilarating to watch – even _if _it bounces off the rocks. I blush.

"Oh, shoot! I forgot to ask you… Which is your dominant eye?"

"My what?" My arms drop to my sides.

"You're dominant eye. The one you'll use for targeting."

"I…I don't know," I shuffle my feet in the dirt. "I've never bothered to find out."

"You haven't learned about that yet. Sorry, I forgot. Here, let's find out. Make a flat triangle with your fingers, like this," she stretches her arms out before her, touching thumbs and first fingers together. I copy her. "Now, bring the triangle back towards your face – just naturally. Whichever eye it's over is your dominant eye."

"Left," I tell her. "Definitely left."

"Good! Now close your right eye and aim with your left," she pulls another arrow from the quiver behind us, and hands it to me, stepping back as I take my aim. Take my _time_, is more like it. My hands tremble and I can't get a clear shot… Abana waits patiently beside me, watching. _Come on you stupid blueberry_, I think, biting my lip. Their voices never leave me. _Shoot._

I let the arrow fly. But as soon as I let go, I know it's a bust. It arcs downwards, and sticks in the ground.

"That's all right," she pulls out another arrow. "It's all about timing. You were holding it for too long, and your arm got tired. That'll get better with practice."

I soon see just what she means. If I wait too long, my grip weakens and throws the shot off balance. If I don't wait long enough, I can't aim properly. But as embarrassing as failure is, I don't need to be an expert. All I need is to shoot well enough to activate the Mirror…

"Why don't we switch to a different target?" She says, after a while. "There are some easier ones down there that have less of an arc." She points down the strip of dirt, and she's right, they do look easier.

"You're telling me this _now_?" My neck and shoulders hurt from craning so much, and a roll them, to ease the pain. Some teacher _she_ is – taking me to the hardest targets first. But the new ones aren't without challenges, either. Though a straight shot, they're smaller in size, making aiming difficult. After a few hours, I fair a little better. I'm able to hit the target, at least. It's frustrating, though, the heat, the advice, my shaking. I just wish it would all go away so I could focus!

"You're getting frustrated. We should stop." I nod, lower my bow, and force myself to breathe slowly. I just need practice, that's all. "Not bad for your first try."  
"Thanks," and I mean it. I'd forgotten who Abana is. There's no danger of judgment from her. "It's almost dinnertime. We should head inside."

XXX

_I am me, but I am also not myself… Here, I am more _me_, more wholesome than I could be elsewhere. Surrounded by trees, and up to my shins in grass that glides over skin, I know where I am without really knowing it. All around me are tunnels, from which a song is floating. It's such a pretty song…so much spirit, and life… I think I'm going to…follow it. I go through one of the tunnels, feeling like someone is close ahead of me. It opens out into a balcony, of sorts, overlooking a sprawling forest. Targets hang from the branches here. Someone must be using it for practice. Two more tunnels lead to the right and left. Something shifts. It's the presence, from before, and it's moving to the left. I follow, trying to catch up, though it's easier said than done. Forget the song. This person – whoever they are – is the most important thing. I have to catch up to them, and now. He – wait, he? I have the strangest feeling it's a boy – could be in danger. No matter how fast I run, I can never catch up to him, I never see him. I can just feel him. Feel him moving. I pant, but don't feel tired. I don't feel anything, really. It's like everything around me has been watered down, like paint that's too deluded. The only real thing is him. The person I know, but cannot remember. But I'm almost there. There's a feeling of finality in the air. If this can be called air, with its dreamlike, buoyant near nonexistence. There's one tunnel ahead of me. I will remember at the end of it. Remember who he is. He is close, but his footsteps echo as he descends stone steps. I run after him. On the landing I see a foot – wrapped in a leather boot. My heart skips a beat. The steps open out into a meadow, marred only by an iron gate. Breath fills my lungs, a real breath, breath that has his name on it when it reenters the world, a name I forget as soon as I say it, but know in my heart. It's a name I can feel, but cannot place. He turns._

_The first thing I see is blue eyes. _

XXX

I don't want to move. At first, my heart was pounding, but then it slowed, and I lay still. I'm calmer now than I have been in forever. Lying in bed, I try to remember a time when I felt like this. Nothing comes up. It's strange…not only am I calm, but I feel…_older, _like an adult. The forest is still in my lungs, and the boy's still with me, and though I cannot see him, though he doesn't exist, I long for him. Whether it's through some primal need for affection, or just loneliness, I'll never know.

There's no wind. It's all silent – except for the occasional shouts of the patrol outside. For the first time in my life, time itself seems to stand still. Whenever I imagined a moment that I wished would never end, I always thought it would be with someone I love. Not something like this. But in a moment like this, when I feel so wholesome and so lonely at the same time, I realize even more acutely the need to have someone – anyone – at my side.

At last, I rise, and the moment begins to fade. Agriculture today, crap… I change in a hurry, pulling on my boots – gray leather. Leather like his boots. I join my class at the mess hall, trying to put the dream behind me. I usually sleep past the morning meal, but on agriculture days it's important to keep your strength up. I grab a roll from a basket and wolf it down, suddenly ravenous. All I can remember eating yesterday is bread and beer. Speaking of beer, I have a headache. Maybe I did have too much… I down another roll, and drink some water.

"All right," Miarh calls from the double doors at the front. "We gotta go. Crops can't tend to themselves!" There's a collective grumble around me, but I keep silent. Is there really any point in joining in their agony, when all my plan will really do is bring them more? I flinch at the thought. Should Hyrule defeat both the King and me, what will become of my people? It's like a needle to my chest. I can't – _won't _cause them harm. But things are so different now. _I _am so different. Now that I know what I know, now that I have my plan pieced together…can I really go back? A rush of cold runs through me. It's like I'm sinking in quicksand. For the first time I wonder in all seriousness, "Can I really do this?"


	5. Food for Thought

**A.N: Hey guys! Sorry it took so long - I had a REALLY rough time with this chapter. Writers block and other things getting in the way... XO As for chapter 6, would you like to see the details of the journey, or skip over it and get right to Hyrule? (I'd add some details after the skip, but...) Anyway, hope you like this chapter! Enjoy. **

**xxx**

Anxiety pierces me whenever I look up at the roof. It's strange, how I never noticed them before. The pillars on top of the Fortress, the chains sinking down inside it. They aren't lax chains either. They're at a diagonal. Which means they're attached to something. The till handle slips beneath my elbow, and I almost face-plant into the dirt. Grabbing hold of it and righting myself, I steal a glance at the sky, so clear and pretty. The scents of plowed earth, grass, and flowers hit my nose and send a rush through my blood. The trees toss in a gentle wind.

There is peace. Like in my dream.

My stomach curdles and I can't help looking at the roof again.

"Anali!" Miarh's voice makes me jump. "Quit daydreaming and get back to work!"

"Yes ma'am!" I grab my plow and hack at the dirt, blushing.

Someone next to me snickers.

"Homesick, blueberry?" It's Ira.

"Go feed the vultures," I spit. She scowls and shoves me. What a witch.

At noon, we lunch on bread. My clothes and skin are caked in dirt and sweat. The others huddle beneath the trees, whispering amongst themselves and talking with their hands. They're just as dirty as I am. Dappled light falls around them, speckling them with shadows.

Shadows.

They're a rarity, a strange sight here, in this fake haven. When you look into them, things are almost _too _dark.

Yet…

I flick my gaze away when one of the girls looks up. Has she seen me staring? From the way she whispers to one of her friends – who scowls at me – the answer is yes. I sigh and stare at the sky through the tree leaves.

Yet it is _here _I feel at home. Away from the glare of the sun and the grinding sand and the Mirror that brings only shame. Maybe it's the dream, but… I feel repulsed to it all, somehow. Like trees are better than sand. I look down again, into the shadows pooling around my hands. The sunlight has dazzled my eyes. Sparks dance in my vision.

Like darkness is better than blinding light.

Something clicks. And it's the worst click in the world, a click that flips me inside out and makes my soul dirtier than my body.

What if Hyrule isn't as bad as I think it is? What if… What if Hyrule's… _better? _What if they're trying to change us to give us a better life…?

Could the desert sun have blinded me to the truth?

No, no! It can't be! Could this dream, this dream of greener pastures, _really _be pushing me towards a place I am sworn to hate? A place that has stripped me, my people, of our very being?

Tomorrow we begin our trek to Hyrule. I must make a decision by then. To activate the Mirror, or not? I look at the roof again, across the horizon, and my stomach flips. "_I'd rather die than take on their name…"_ Already those words have come back to haunt me. Should I fail, death is certain. I picture myself, head and hands locked between slabs of wood, neck sticking out like a cooked cuckoo, waiting for the axe. I shiver. Is it really worth taking that chance? Is revenge really worth it?

Maybe I should go to Hyrule and find out.

Suddenly a wave of relief washes over me. The decision will have to be made. But I don't have to make it now. I don't have to plot or suffer anymore… I can just relax…

"Alright everyone! Break's over, back to work!"

There's a collective groan, which I join this time. So much for relaxing. But at least now I know what I'm going to do. I'll go to Hyrule, and if it's as terrible as I think, I'll activate the Mirror. If not… I'll give up. As sick as that makes me, and as spiteful as I am to have to admit it… Maybe the Hyrulians have reasons for doing what they've done. Though I can't imagine what those reasons may be.

xxx

Oil lamps light the windows. Noise bursts through the Mess Hall's walls. Refreshed from a late night wash, Abana and I stand outside its door.

"What's going on?" I ask. "It sounds like a party…"

"They're probably having a feast – strengthen us before we have to leave." That makes sense. Who could say no to a feast? The door creaks open, and our jaws drop to the floor. The food.

It's everywhere.

Every table is full with huge platters rolls, pasta, fish, wine, pastries… Even lobster!

"How…?" I want to speak, but words fail me.

"Who _cares_?" Abana grabs my arm and pulls me to a table. A plate is in my hand before I can even sit down. What looks good? Screw that - what looks _best_?! The greedy wenches around me will want what I want too… The primal need for food turns everyone into an enemy. I feel the others' eyes on me, and know they feel the same. I wish they'd all die in a fire!

"Can someone pass the pasta?" I ask.

"Sure!" Abana nicks the platter from Ira, who scowls. Abana just sticks out her tongue. We each serve ourselves huge helpings and give it back.

"This is amazing! Where did it all come from?" I say, mouth full of spaghetti. It's smooth, buttery in my mouth, and does down easy. If my stomach could thank me, it would. There's nothing like the feeling of food sliding down into it, especially when you're hungry. I snag a roll and a piece of fish – shame we have to share it – and wolf down as much as I can.

"I know, right?! The Hylians sent it over as some sort of premise to the treaty!" Abana looks like a squirrel with mounds of food stuffed in her cheeks. She barely manages to swallow, her plate almost clean. How does she eat that fast? Does she _breathe_? She rises, lifting her arms. "LONG LIVE THE KI –"

She starts coughing. I bolt from my seat, as do some others around us.

"Are you all right?" My hand goes to her back, while hers is at her throat. She keeps coughing, cheeks paling. She's choking! What do I do? I look around for help, but nothing appears. I see only mirrors of myself – frozen in terror. Everything and everyone is silent, still. Time has stopped. The world has stopped. There's nothing but this dying girl in front of me.

A hand catches my wrist and pulls it down. A fist pounds into her back. Abana lurches forward, palms digging into the table, hacking. My alarm abates only when I can register breathing. She gasps for breath. A wad of chewed food, grimy and yellow, has appeared on her plate.

"Are you all right?" A calm voice asks. I jump, not having realized someone was there. Of course someone was. That hand hadn't come from nowhere. Even so, my brain didn't think to tell me who it was until I turned around.

"P… Princess Nabooru?!" I feel my voice rise to a shout. She just smiles at me. Up close she's even more beautiful. When she blinks, her gold eyeliner sparkles and makes her eyes come alive. Her lips, so soft and full, close around bright white teeth. Her body, fit and lean, looks – dare I say it, majestic, in white. The color of the elite. I struggle for something to say, but she just repeats herself.

"Are you all right?"

Abana turns around, breath back in her body. "I… I… Yes, Princess. I'm fine. Thank you."

"No problem." Her gaze flicks over the whole of us, landing on Abana and me. "Eat slow." She drops my hand and continues on her way out of the Mess Hall.

Slowly, surely, as though we were statues coming to life, the cafeteria returns to normal. Chatter resumes, along with the clink of plates and the scrape of forks. I begin to relax when I hear the notes of drinking songs.

That was Princess Nabooru. And she was touching my wrist.

"You ok?" I mutter, sitting down.

"Yeah," she murmurs. By the nervous look in her eyes I can tell her heart is racing. And so is mine. "How did she do that?"

"I don't know. Whatever it was, it was awesome."

I have zero chance of ever stealing from _her_.

When someone is choking you're supposed to apply pressure to their lungs, to get them to cough everything up. All hitting them in the back will do is knock the wind out of them. If the Princess is strong enough to make her hack up by hitting her in the _back_…

I'd hate to see how easily she could twist a neck.

I shiver.

This may call for a revision in my plan…

But I'll think about that later.

Food now. But… suddenly I'm not hungry. It's like all my energy's been drained.

"What's up, Anali?" Abana looks at me, careful to avoid the glob of chewed food on her plate.

"You were dying," I whisper, "and I didn't do anything about it." It makes me sick to think how I just _froze up _like that… It's not that I didn't know what to do. I did; I just didn't do it for whatever reason.

"I wasn't _dying_!" She punches my arm, a smile on her face. "Don't be so dramatic, it wasn't _that _bad!" But I can see the fear in her eyes, the recognition that meant she knew _exactly _what I was talking about. "I knew someone'd back me up."

"I'm glad you're ok," I whisper.

"I wasn't dying, Anali."

"I know. Maybe we all are."

"Stop being such a downer and eat! Yer food's gettin' cold."

I smile. "You're right. Thanks." I spear a piece of chicken. No sense in letting a perfectly good feast go to waste!

xxx

At least she feels safe here. That's more than what I can say for some of us. Home as this is, it's fraught with danger, whether from animals, monsters, or people. It's especially dangerous for someone like me, because although most of the adults treat me everyone else… the truth is I have very few friends. As if that wasn't already apparent. People are so judgmental.

Judgmental enough to make me _expect _ridicule. Enough to put me on edge constantly. That's what isolation in a dangerous place does. Puts you on edge. Freezes you. Renders you immobile. Like a blow to the back. Like watching someone dying.

Do I really feel so helpless all the time…? As helpless as I felt today with Abana?

Maybe.

I shift in bed, blue light pouring in through the window. It's cold. I feel like I'm underwater. My pajamas are too tight.

Tomorrow I will escape this place. Even if it's just for a while. I'll still be isolated – perhaps even more so, now that I'll be in enemy territory – but at least I'll have something else to focus on.

I'm getting sick of these late night pity parties. It's like my mood fluctuates with the temperature. I'm ten. I shouldn't be so… blue.

I fall asleep thinking of the boy with sky-like eyes.


	6. The Princess and Her Paupers, Part 1

**A/N: Hey guys! SO glad to get this up! My longest chapter yet! I'm so excited! Yes, the horse Valshe is a reference to the singer. XD I thought I'd tribute her a little. :3 Anyway I hope you like this chapter! Stay tuned for part two!**

**xxx**

Spikes of green sift through the waning grains of sand. All at once, the orange, canyon-like walls fall behind us, the sky opens out into oblivion, and trees appear on the horizon. Those around me lose their breath, their heads turning every which way. The expanse of clouds, the scent of fresh grass, of _life_, fills our beings in a way that gives us headaches. It's all too much. It's all too _real_.

This place is like a giant oasis.

In the carriage ahead of us, sturdy and wooden and shrouded with a red curtain, are my King and the Princess. _Now _I see why he wants this land for himself. It's majestic. It's powerful. It's beautiful. A wall blocks something from our view, atop a hill. My feet complain, but I'm too captivated by the sudden brilliance to care. The sun doesn't burn as hot here. I feel lighter and brighter and fuller than I ever have in my life.

There is peace here.

Just like in my dream.

I look up to meet Abana's eyes. She's staring at something in the distance. Following her gaze, I find it's some sort of tunnel, protruding from inside a narrow rock path in the forest. Its entrance, partly obscured, reminds me of some sort of instrument. I feel my heart skip a beat. Atop one of the trees nearby, something moves. It's a gigantic vulture-like creature, a bird with a large brown body and beady eyes. Its head twists from side to side, even upside down, as it watches us pass. Then it takes flight, wings spreading six feet across. Mid-flight it dips lower, over us, kicking up wind. The sudden chill makes me shudder, and I'm glad the thing is gone. It's not as cold as desert nights here, and the air is milder, but it will take some adjusting to.

Not that we'll be staying long. The King's signature on the treaty, and a dinner, and that's it, boom, we're back home, isolated forever from this wonderful world. All for the sake of pride. I look up at the caravan. Nabooru is there, sitting in the back and watching us, smiling. But there's seriousness in her eyes, a smoldering intensity as she watches us that for some reason reminds me of the night I snuck into the library. She knows about his plan, surely. The question is… Is she going to help him?

I know I would.

"Ganondorf," she calls, pulling back the curtain. Our King, sitting engulfed in shadows, turns to face her. In the darkness I see a frown. Her words come as floating tendrils, having bounced off the inside walls and filtered in the wind. "Stop the caravan. Let them explore or rest a while. They've been walking for hours." I don't hear his reply, but see the scowl on her face when she comes out, sitting back down.

"We're almost there!" She calls to us. "His Majesty wants to pick up the pace."

And we do.

Just outside Castletown's gates is a ranch, where we stop to rest for a few hours. The Princess watches over us as we sit in the grass outside an enclosure. The King stands by a trough filled with water, horse's reins in hand, talking with the man who appears to be the owner. He's thin and balding, and looks at us with a withering eye, as if he expects us to steal something. Knowing us, we probably would.

Inside the pen is a girl around my age, playing with a horse. Singing to it. Her voice rises into the sky, a beautiful, charming voice. The heavens are turning pink, the sun setting to her melody. I want to talk to her. I'm in a new place. Maybe I could make a new friend? But what will she think of me, when her father hates us? And even _she _has red hair…

My stomach rumbles, and I groan, suddenly realizing how hungry I am.

"You're hungry too?" Abana asks, hand on her own stomach. I realize I haven't talked to her all day – or if I did, I don't remember what I said. Guilt wells up in my throat. Have I really been pushing her aside so much?

"Yeah," I say, crawling closer to her in the grass. "When do you think we'll get something to eat?"

"I dunno. Soon I hope. I'm _dying _over here!" Suddenly a shadow flows over us, making me jump. I turn to see the girl, body swaying to some silent music. Her smile is both adorable and maddening. The dying sun turns her white and blue sundress into an enchanting, twilit shade of itself. Her yellow kerchief is covered in dirt, but the pendent underneath it shines bright.

"Uncle Ingo!" She calls. The balding man looks up. I guess he's not her father after all. Makes sense. He's not nearly as pretty. "Let's keep the newcomers with us tonight! It'll be fun!"

Ingo pales. He obviously doesn't want to say something stupid in front of our King, who, to be honest, looks like he could kill someone with his bare hands. "But Malon!" He cries. "We… we couldn't possibly fit so many people in our house!"

"They can eat outside, can't they? We have enough food to go around – and you said they're used to eating and sleeping outside, right?"

Do these people have a death wish? My face flushes, and I watch the King's face carefully. His eyes narrow, like he wants to snap the guy's neck.

"That's ridiculous!" Ingo's face reddens. I can see sweat beading on his face. "I'm sorry, sire, sometimes she overhears things from the – less _educated_ buyers of ours, and she… tends to let her imagination run away with her."

"It's fine, my good sir," His Majesty claps him on the back. It looks like it hurt. "There's no telling the rumors that go around these lands – especially about the things they do not understand." His voice has a low, sword-like edge. There's a rush in my veins. "My girls will stay outside for the night. We have brought tents with us. No one will touch your possessions. Do you understand?"

"O-of course, sire! I will get my brother right away…" He hurries away, our King glaring after him.

"Are you hungry?" Malon asks us as a whole. Some of us turn to her, but most are silent. "Hello?" She giggles, repeating herself. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Abana replies, slowly. "We are very hungry… We have traveled for a very long time."

Malon's hand goes to her lips, and her face turns red. Her body sways more than normal, stomach pumping in and out. She's laughing at us! Silently! "I'm sorry! You just sound so funny!"

Abana blushes. "Funny?"

"Yeah! What language do you speak? Your Hylian sounds weird!"

"We speak Gerudo at home. Our Hylian is taught in school."

"You go to school?!" She kneels beside us, blue eyes bright. "Girls aren't allowed to go to school!"

"You're _not_?!" Our jaws drop. Other girls turn to us, huddling around this strange, ditzy girl.

"Nope! We're taught to read and write, and maybe some math, but other than that we learn sewing and tending crops and stuffs!" She looks around at everyone, a wide grin on her face. She likes the attention. My heart lurches as I realize… She's probably just like me. Isolated on this farm, with no other children around…

"We are taught that too – but we also learn how to fight." There's trepidation in Abana's voice. Not even she is confident in her Hylian skills. I would speak, but I'm too scared. This bubbly, foreign girl frightens me in a way I've never been scared before. It's like the cold here: different, and unbearable in an uncomfortable kind of way.

"Fight?" She looks confused. "Why do you fight? Don't boys do that for you?"

"We have no boys in our tribe."

Her jaw hits the ground. This girl is an _idiot_, but still, the need to talk to her remains. It's like her stupidity is drawing us in. It makes me angry that we have to know everything about her culture when she knows none of ours, but…

A larger shadow falls over us. Princess Nabooru, with her hands on her hips.

"We Gerudan women only birth girls. We believe women can do anything that men can do! We fight, like men! You see?" Her Hylian is perfect! There's a confidence in her voice that is sure to make the Goddess of the Sand smile upon her.

Malon gets to her feet, shouting, "Can _I _be a man too?!" Nabooru laughs and ruffles her hair.

"Sure. Now go on. I think your uncle needs your help."

"Ok!" Malon runs off, past our King, who watches her go. Nabooru shares a look with him, and then they avoid each other until dinner arrives.

We're served milk and bread with butter, with a little baked cuckoo and turnips on the side.

"It would appear that the gold is no brighter in the other valley, eh, Abana?" She looks a little confused. "These people suffer like we do."

"No, they don't. They have this place." A moo comes from a small building off to the side. "They have everything and yet they don't let their people grow."

"What do you mean? Malon learns the same things we do."

"She's a cute kid. But she's still just a kid. She doesn't know anything about us – when she has every opportunity to. They're not sharpening her into an adult. We are adults compared to her." I can't argue with that, and as I eat from their glass bowls, I think of the wooden ones at home.

"How did they beat us?" I ask. "In the war, I mean."

"I don't know," she looks off in the distance, a fire in her eyes. The sky is getting redder. I wonder how cold the night will be. "I don't _wanna _know."

"Get out your tents," Nabooru says, voice falling as silently as the dark. "It is time to sleep."

Abana and I pitch up our sleeping quarters, and crawl inside. It's comfortably warm here. I crawl in beside her, curling under the rain tarp. Her skin is warm against mine – like the desert sun. She's smoldering.

"Are you scared?" I ask.

"Of what?"

"Of what they'll think of us. The Hylians in that big walled off fortress."

"Who _cares _what they think? It won't change anything."

"But –"

"Just go to sleep, Anali."

I flinch a little inside. She doesn't share my fears. That's ok, right? Even friends have their differences. But even so… I feel myself separate from her. Knowing that I am alone in something, when she and I were so close before…

It's… isolating.

xxx

Sunlight cracks into the tent. Half dreaming, a feel a strange presence lord over me. There's breathing, warm, and slow. Comforting…

"VALSHE, NO!" The presence rears back, neighing and pawing at the air. Its head catches the tent, lifting us up. We scream, palms digging into the ground to keep from flying forward. For a moment, the whole world is delirium. Where are we? What's going on?! Fading hoof beats, the running steps. Our tent settles, and we breathe, shaken. A girl peaks in. Words come out of her mouth, but I can't understand what she's saying. Her eyebrows furrow.

"Are you ok?" She repeats. Oh yeah, she's speaking Hylian!

"Yes," I say, suddenly aware that I have an accent. "We're fine."

"Sorry! Valshe is one of our fillies. She's kind of curious."

"Feely? What is a… feely?" I ask.

Malon giggles. "No, silly! A filly! A little girl horse. Daddy sent me to check on you, to see if you were all right."

More like he wanted to make sure we didn't steal anything.

"Yes, we're all right. Thank you."

"I'm Malon, the owner's daughter."

"My name is Anali."

"Anali? That's a pretty name!"

"Thank you." I feel myself blush. No one's ever called something of mine _pretty _before...

"I was about to let the rest of the horses out. Wanna come?"

"Yes, please! And Malon, will you… do me a favor…?"

"Sure!" She blinks her huge eyes.

"Will you… talk slow?"

She blinks again. "Oh… Like… this?"

"Yes. Thank you." I stand and brush myself off, smoothing down my hair. "Where are the horses?"

"In the barn. Come on!" She grabs my hand and runs through the mass of tents, dragging me behind her.

"Whoa!" I resist, to slow her down. "Shh! Be very silent. I am not supposed to be awake!"

"Oh, ok!" She whispers, staying close and walking very slowly. "Sorry Anali…" We tiptoe through the tents, past the caravan, and into a door we passed when we first arrived. Outside it, she turns, finger to her lips.

"Shh! Uncle Ingo isn't up yet." I nod. So she doesn't like that cranky man either. She opens the door to a small enclosure, giant white and black animals asleep beside fully grown horses, who snort when they see us. Malon goes ahead, but I hang back. "What's wrong?"

"What are those things?" I point to the fat, spotted creatures, drawing back from them. "Will they hurt us?"

She just laughs. "You've never seen a _cow_ before? They give us milk!"

"_That _is a cow?!" I knew they gave milk, but I've never seen one before. "I… No. I do not work in the ranches at home."

"You have a ranch at home?" She asks lifting bale of hay twice her size. "What are they like?"

"Smaller than this, I think. And with less animals. Milk is… special."

"You bet it is!" She hauls the hay over the fence and into a cow's trough. It lets out a grateful moo. I flinch.

"So loud!"

She just laughs again. "Come and pet it! It's really soft." I hesitate. "It's ok, it won't bite!" Taking a few steps forward, I reach out my hand. The cow looks gentle, and lazy, head lolling to and fro. I get close enough to feel its fur on my fingertips when –

"MALON! What the **** are you doing?!" Ingo slams the door open, vaulting forward. I shrink back, into the fence, into the cow. What is he saying?! I've never heard these words before! "You should know better than to bring one of these dirty rats in here! You ****!"

Malon shrinks into herself, tears bubbling in her eyes. "I'm sorry! I asked if she wanted to see the horses, and…"

"This girl is a dirty thief and you KNOW it! How _dare _you bring her here!" He goes for her, hand raised.

I react the only way I know how.

"Do not TOUCH her!" He smacks me across the face, vaulting me backwards. I recoil, bumping into a cow. It lets out a startled moo, and the horses snort, pawing the ground. A hand goes to my cheek.

The sting…

"GET OUT!" He bellows, pointing to the doorway. "I want you ALL out!" He grabs me by the arm, drags me outside. Malon follows, wide-eyed and speechless.

"Let me go!" I struggle, but his grip is made of iron. "LET _GO_!"

"I'll teach YOU to steal from me you little *****!"

"Uncle Ingo NO!" Malon screams, grabbing hold of him, kicking and punching.

"Malon, let go of me! Let GO!" He yanks her hair, lifting her off the ground. "Let GO!"

"That is NO way to treat a child!" Nabooru's voice booms forward, assaulting us in the air. She comes storming toward us, face flushed and eyes burning. My relief is so great I don't feel it until Ingo speaks again.

"This _rat_ of yours was in my barn, trying to _steal _from me."

"This isn't your ranch." Her words cut even without a sharp edge. "And _she _is not a thief."

"I've never stolen anything!" The words come out before I can think.

"Shut up!" His grip tightens. Pain slices up my arm. I grimace. Nabooru sees.

"_Let _go _of her_." It's a chilling, menacing whisper. "This is the last time I will ask." A figure lumbers around the corner – and for some reason…

It fills me with more terror than Ingo does.

"Is there a… problem?"

"K-King Ganondorf!"

"Sire, this girl was in an area of my property that I did not wish her to see. I think it's fair I should suspect a stranger of thievery, regardless of their family reputation, no?"

"She was WITH ME!" Malon screeches. "She WOULDN'T have stolen anything!"

"She could easily have overpowered you." His words make her flinch.

"I see," Ganondorf comes forward. He's like a moving shadow. Leering. Domineering. "I apologize. These children of mine are often very curious – but I assure you _this_ one would not have taken anything. If she had, she would not have been so easily caught." His words are reasonable, but they offer a special kind of intimidation… Nabooru's anger was frightening in a warm, reassuring kind of way – the kind you knew would pass. But this… This is an anger of a completely different nature. It sends me chills. "It is also fair to say that this would not have happened had you specified where my children may and may not go… Am I right?"

"Hmph. I guess you're right." He acts bold, but I can feel him shaking. The King's eyes…. They're terrifying. Full of cold fire.

"Now let her go."

He listens, freeing Malon too. I can't move at first, then bolt, running past Ganondorf, looking only at the tents. Nabooru catches me in her arms, dropping to my level. I hold her tight, nails digging into her skin. My heart bangs against my ribcage, and I can't get enough breath in my lungs. She whispers words of comfort I can't hear.

Gannon speaks again. "We are leaving."

Ingo nods. I bet he's still shaking. I am. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Just get out of my way."

xxx

I stand behind Abana, packed and readied. Whispers ripple through my peers. They heard everything. I am a thief, they say.

I allowed a man to strike me.

I can still feel the hand mark on my face.

King Ganondorf stands at our head, directing us with his silence as our instructors do with yells. There's tension in his muscles. His eyes are still alive with flames. No one wants to talk. We're a few yards away from the ranch when a voice calls out. A beautiful, melodic voice.

"Anali wait! ANALI!" I hear the grass crunching. Something's coming up fast.

Oh, no. What does she want _now_?

"Haven't you caused me enough troub – OOFF!" She slams into me before I can even turn around all the way. Freezing, I'm glad what I said was in Gerudo. She's squeezing me tight, but it doesn't feel like a martial arts hold… I feel something wet on my shoulder.

She's crying.

Slowly, hesitantly, I wrap my arms around her shoulders.

"I wanna be strong, like you!" She says into my shoulder.

Her words take me by surprise. Strong, like me? Was I really _that_ brave?

My thoughts turn to Ganondorf. The way he made a grown man shake, and how he chilled one of his own to the bone.

How he plans to steal the Triforce and crush these people under his thumb.

"No." I murmur.

"What…?" She sounds confused, shifting in my arms.

"I'm not strong, Malon. Don't be such a kid."


	7. The Princess and Her Paupers, Part 2

**A/N: Gotta love when you've been away so long you don't remember how to post. ." Anyway! Glad to be back - I was sick all day so I thought I'd do this. This chapter didn't turn out nearly as glamorous as I imagined... But oh well! Hope you like it anyway! Stuff gets REAL serious next time I promise! I try to make these chapters long so the wait is worth it, but... XD Sometimes that doesn't always work! At any rate, thanks SO much for the 337 views guys! I really appreciate it! I love each and every one of you! My question for this chapter is: Who is your favorite character so far - and why? Thanks so much everyone and enjoy! **

**xxx**

The sun drags across the sky. Tiny figures slide across the top of Castle Town's wall, encased in metal suits. When they see us coming, they man a crank and lower the gate.

"Who are those men?" I ask. "What are they wearing?"

"Those soldiers are from the castle. Can't you see the crest on their armor?" The poison in Abana's tone makes me cringe.

"Yeah, I guess…" I swallow, then continue slowly. "Are you… mad at me?"

"No, no. I'm perfectly fine with the fact that you ignore me all the time."

"I'm sorry, I… I've had a lot on my mind."

"Like _what_, Anali? How much you love ranches?"

I flinch. "I'm _sorry_!"

"You leftme there _alone_! You didn't even thinkto ask her if I could go with you, did you? I could have helped you! I could have _protected _you!"

"I'm SORRY, ok?" A wave of heat rushes to my cheeks, and I feel myself tear up. Desperation takes over and my mouth moves before I can stop it. "I… I have something to tell you."

"What?" Her gold eyes flash. Pent-up anger and spite seethe through that one word. It's like (another) smack in the face. How long has she _felt_ this way?

I pause, take a deep breath. "Do you remember when I asked you for shooting lessons?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

I look around, scanning for ears. For listeners. I touch her arm to slow her down, whispering. "I asked for a reason."

"What?" She's all ears now, like she sees something urgent in my face.

"I plan to –"

"Heads up, all of you!" Nabooru calls, hands cupped to her face. "Use Hylian from now on!"

We chorus back, in Hylian. "Yes ma'am!" Abana and I run to catch up to the line. Oh, Keese droppings… How am I going to tell her NOW?

It clicks. "I feel awful." I run my fingers through my hair. "I wish I had a MIRROR to see what I looked like." She looks confused. "I wonder if HYRULE has the same quality MIRRORS we do." Still nothing. "You know what they say, though. A woman without a MIRROR is in a PRISON from which she needs to be FREED. I wonder if HYRULE has that saying." Her eyebrows furrow… and then her eyes widen.

"You… wanted to set them free?" She murmurs in Gerudo. "On Hyrule?"

I nod. She takes a step away from me, mouth agape. The relief I'd felt at telling her is seized by a sudden terror.

I may have just lost my only friend.

"You're crazy," she continues in Hylian. "You look fine."

"Thanks," I mutter. She called my crazy. Great. That's it. She's gone. My gaze slips to the ground as I step on the bridge. The rush of water beneath my feet strikes a chord deep in my soul. Here come the waterworks. I sniffle, and feel a tear slip.

Something brushes against my skin. Abana. Nudging me.

"When we get back," she whispers in my ear. "Tell me everything."

Hope.

"I will." I hear that breath that exits the mouth as her lips uncover her teeth. "And I'm sorry."

She puts a hand to my shoulder. "No problem. _Sadreah_."

I freeze. _Sadreah_. The Gerudo word for 'blood bond.'

She called me family.

I smile wider than I ever have in my whole life and wrap my arms around her. She puts her arm around me and we enter Castle Town together.

The first things I notice are the uneven streets and the crowds. I've never seen so many people! Fat women in strange, rag-like clothes that cover everything and swish when they move. Bands of men playing music, which a couple dances to. Dogs, cuckoos, a beggar boy with red hair… Everywhere, the bustle and voices! Many stop and stare as we pass – and I see a few pointing at me, awe on their faces. I flush and look away, unable to bear their eyes. A little girl chasing a cuckoo bumps into me and lands butt-first on the ground. I lean down to help her, but she just stares at me, terrified. An adult grabs her by the shoulder and, standing her up, pulls her away. He bows to me, taking shuffling steps back into the crowd. More eyes are on me now, and I feel my heart quicken. Not sure what to do, I draw my lips in a tight line, give a brisk nod, and carry on. It's a trick Abana taught me. When you're scared, hold your head high.

And I would hold it high.

If Ganondorf wasn't in the back of the caravan, scrutinizing me.

Instead I keep my eyes low, scraping them over the stony streets. When next I look up, the King is gone, and I let out a breath I had no intention of holding.

The guards stop us at the gate. One of them, carrying a spear, leans around the caravan and looks at us. His jaw drops, and some of us can't help snickering.

"What?" Abana whispers, smirking. "Never seen little girls before?" She elbows me, and I force a smile. This morning's events still haven't left my system. Ingo's hand around my wrist. The sting when he hit me. Malon's eyes filling with tears. I can't imagine what tortures that poor kid has to go through every day. With a man like that.

The only thing soiling the garden around Hyrule Castle is the guards. Dappled light from the surrounding trees bounces off their armor, and makes looking at them unbearable. The Castle itself is build up in gray stone, high triangular towers pointing towards the sun. A wooden door, decorated with ornate metal, marks the entrance.

At once I feel my heart pounding.

"Halt!" We stop. A soldier with a visor covering his face addresses us from the final gate. "My apologies, sir, but we must check you and your troupe for weapons." King Ganondorf, to my surprise, nods. "Please back your carriage onto the lawn."

When we obey, the entire garden platoon swarms around us, keeping us all in a circle. Ganondorf and Nabooru stay by the caravan as two men inspect it. Other guards dive into the crowd, patting us down, barking orders. A second carriage is brought out, and everything they find that's shiny is loaded into it. A boy with white hair and red eyes approaches me, arms outstretched. He reaches over me, for my katana. I step out of grasp, somehow frightened by the blue mask covering his face.

"This one's suspicious!" He cries, pressing towards me. He's ghostly in his blue poncho, formless save the arms on both sides and the legs popping out at the bottom. One by one the other guards close in, about to pounce.

"Enough!" A rough, female voice halts everything. All eyes look to its owner, a muscular woman with bulging arms crossed over her metal-wrapped chest. Like the ghost-boy, she has silver hair and red eyes, white tattoos beneath each eye. Clad in a skin-tight blue uniform, her arms move to grasp at her waist. No wonder these men listen – she's horrifying! "These children are not our enemies any longer. There's no need to scare them."

Too late for that, lady.

She looks at the ghost-boy. "Kiraji, apologize to that girl."

"But Impa –!" He starts to protest, but the look on her face silences him. He turns to me, grudgingly, and bows. "I am sorry."

I don't say anything. He appeals to Impa, and she offers a grim nod. The inspection continues, and Kiraji moves on to Abana, who refuses to acknowledge him.

A hand grabs at my wrist. I jump a mile – and come face to face with Impa. Her eyes burn into mine for an eternity before another hand comes to rest upon my shoulder. But this time, it's familiar.

"Is there something wrong, _mahdeiroh_?" Nabooru's eyes are gold slits, like the sides of yellow rupees. I flinch at her sudden Gerudo. _Mahdeiroh _is the derogatory form of 'miss,' and judging by Impa's narrowed eyes, she knows that.

"Not at all," she murmurs in a hard voice. "This child's weapon simply needs to be confiscated."

"Need I remind you we are no longer your enemy?"

"You aren't convincing me of that, _Princess_. At any rate, her sword is too big. It fits an adult, not a child." Nabooru scowls. "I will replace it upon your departure."

"Very well," Nabooru removes her hand and slinks back to the caravan. That hot, spirited anger from this morning ripples across her face and glows in her eyes. Impa strips me of my katana and shield, and tosses them into the weapons cart. I watch as she calls Kiraji to her side, and as their work is completed, they lead us in a procession to the door. Ganondorf, stripped of his black armor, is given a brown shirt and belt like the ones in the town. It barely fits him – his chest and muscles bulge out behind the cheap fabric. I see the tension in his jaw and shiver.

He wants to make these people suffer.

The Visor Eyes at the front gate call the door open, and Impa and Kiraji take us inside. The walls close in on us, and a plush blue carpet curls underfoot. Torches light the way as the door crawls back up to closed. Then the hallway opens out into a throne room, brightly lit and paved with gray stone. High on a pedestal of steps is a gigantic chair clothed in dark blue velvet. Two smaller chairs, a sleek, tastefully gray one and a simple child's seat, stand beside it. Guards line the walls on either side, unmoving, like empty metal suits.

"Half of you line the right side, kneeling, the other kneel on the left. The King and Princess of Thieves in the middle!" Impa's voice booms through the room, and there's a clicking sound, like the men have all stood straighter. Nabooru and Ganondorf go about separating us into two groups. I get sent to the back on the right side, and we stand waiting for further instructions. Impa and Kiraji disappear up a set of stairs to the left of the throne, and all is silent. Ganondorf and Nabooru face forward, stock still. Birds twitter outside, their song muffled by the walls and the strange clear metal in the window.

Impa returns, arms welded to her sides as she stands beside the three thrones. "Presenting: Zelda, Princess of Hyrule!"

It's silent a moment, and then the soft sound of footsteps echoes down. Everyone gets on one knee, facing the floor. But I can't help looking up. A girl my age in a purple and white dress comes in. Her blue eyes search us, as though she's looking for something. Her wrists, neck, and belt glitter with gold and her blonde hair is swept up in a cowl. Sewn into her dress is the family crest, a downward triangle beneath it. Her ears, absurdly pointed with her hair that way, make me giggle. Her head snaps in my direction.

I look down quickly, heart rate rising. I feel her eyes on me, and there's a change in the air, like she's about so say something. Footsteps – the clink of metal in them. I steal another glance. Impa's leading the Princess to the smallest chair, arm around her shoulder. Once she's seated, Impa leans down to receive a whispered message. She nods, stands, and retakes her post beside the stairs.

"Presenting: the King of Hyrule!" The king is a heavy, unimpressive man in red. He toddles to the largest chair and sits, his daughter to his left. I keep my head bowed.

"Daddy –" The Princess begins, but he holds up a hand to silence her. She glances my way, but then looks forward, frowning.

"Mighty King of Hyrule!" Ganondorf leans on his hands, and bows so his face touches the floor. As he moves so do we, to copy him. I can feel the humiliation rippling throughout the room, and my own soul wells up with shame. "My people bow to you!" The Hylian King claps his hands once, and stands again. I can hear the slight, grateful groan of his chair as his gargantuan weight leaves it.

"Ganondorf, my good man! There is no need for such humility. We are equal now. Stand! And let your brethren do the same."

_Brethren? _I hear Abana's voice in my head. _Do we _look _like men to him? _I can't help but smile as we, in unison, rise to our feet.

"Where is this man's armor?" The King asks. "Where are his jewels? He is a king – yet you dress him as a commoner!"

Impa raises her right hand, stepping from her place beside Zelda. "Precautions, sire. Even the children were searched."

"Nonsense! Return to him his clothes, and give him my best cloak! I will not be an ungracious host!" Impa's face twists, but she does not protest. Bowing, she leaves the room, the guards' muscles tightening as she passes. The King's face relaxes into a kind smile. "Now then. Your children look hungry, Gannon. Let us feast!" Zelda stands immediately, and the King himself leads the way into the dining hall.

It's then I lose my appetite.

Because in order for Gannon's plan to work…

He'll have to kill the King.

xxx

Never in my life have I seen so much food. And this time I mean it. Turkey and gravy, fish, some sort of red thing with claws, cuckoo, soups, salads, dishes I don't even know the names of… All line this desert-long table. I absolutely gorge myself, dipping rolls in mashed potatoes, sipping broth from bowls, ripping into ovals of ham. The courses keep coming, and I keep eating, all the time growing sick to my stomach. Sick with truth. My peers eat like starving Wolfos (Abana more carefully than the others), but at the head of the table, our superiors engage in small talk, taking small mouthfuls of soup. Zelda keeps looking up at Gannon, who sits across from her in his black armor, dignity reinstated, smiling readily at whatever fluff the King is spouting. The tension in his jaw remains, and his shoulders are rigid against the straight-backed chair. Beside Zelda, Nabooru eats with surprising delicacy, elbow resting on the table, and cheek in her hand between each periodic spoonful.

The Princess turns to her father, and says something, quietly, and at his nod she stands, leaving her soup bowl half full. Nabooru gives it a sidelong glance, her mouth twitching downward. She takes another sip of broth.

"My father and I are very glad to have you here." The sudden voice makes me jump. I turn in the chair, and force my jaw shut. Zelda's eyes are neither overly kind, nor overly harsh, and her mouth is only the slightest of smiles.

I take a breath and stand, summoning the best of my Hylian skills. "We are honored to be here, Princess Zelda." I bow at the waist, licking away a spot of gravy on my lip.

"You needn't bow. As father says, you are welcome company here." She speaks evenly, with forced eloquence, like she's coaxing her words into a melodious rise and fall.

I nod. "Thank you, Princess."

"I was told you are all to stay in the castle tonight. I do hope you find yourself comfortable."

"Undoubtedly, Princess Zelda."

She nods, curtly, and offers a smile. "I like your hair. It's the most _divine_ shade of blue."

Tingles run down my spine, and before I can stop myself, I smile. "Thank you, my lady… You are the first person to tell me that." And, because I need to return the favor, "I love your necklace."

She puts a hand to her chest, covering the ruby-inlaid sun. "Oh, this old thing? It was my mother's."

"It's beautiful."

She hears the flat note in my voice and cuts everything short. "It is. Well… Good night."

"Good night, Princess." She turns and leaves the room.

I return to my food, but around me, most of the table is silent. The King lets out a hearty laugh, snorting a little as he settles down.

"My Zelda is such a people person! She loves making new friends, but she never gets the chance, with her lessons, you know…"

All eyes turn from him to me, and stare. I feel myself shrinking in my seat.

Gannon's eyes burn into the side of my head.

I am a friend of Hyrule's King.

Which means I am also the enemy.

After dinner, I find the nearest washroom and puke.


	8. Nevermore

**A/N: SOOOOOOO glad to have this out at last! I hope it's as good as the others - and I hope there're some surprises along the way! I tried to make this one super long for you guys. Let me know what you think! Enjoy. 3**

**xxx**

The night passes in a haze of restless dreams. I awake at dawn conscious of only one thing: I must make up for the mishap with the king. Dressing quickly, I ignore the sleeping bodies in the bunk beds around me. They are shadows, turned gray in the budding dawn light. The 'barracks,' someone called them, are quite the luxurious hole in the wall. A large window in the back of the room looks out into the courtyard. Someone's out there. No, two people: One tall and muscular and the other smaller, of child stature.

Impa and Zelda.

My chest tightens.

I have to do it. It's not my strong point, but I have to do it.

If I can utilize the Princess' trust in me, I may be able to get more information on the kingdom. Information Ganondorf can use. In the very least it will avert their eyes from me. I can't look like a traitor. But then, why would I? I'm only ten… Why should I have to be afraid of my own people? _It doesn't matter if you should or shouldn't be_, a voice within me answers. _You are. _

And so, out of the most comfortable bed I've ever slept on and towards the courtyard I go, pulling my hair back in the traditional Gerudo ponytail. There's a small, dark hallway to pass through before the door to the courtyard can be reached. Blinking away the light, I stare at my feet, taking in the sand encrusted in my boots. My eyes take in the remaining shadows of the morning. _Sometimes darkness is better than light,_ the voice whispers. _Especially if you're a thief. _

"Good morning!" Zelda's voice is light, if not somewhat guarded. She can't possibly be as stupid as Malon was. She's had a better education than all the kids at camp combined. She'll know I'm digging…

I bake a smile on my face, cracked and dry but hopefully convincing, and lift my head. "The best of mornings, Princess!" We approach one another, her eyes glittering, blue like my hair. "I must say, you treat your soldiers like kings."

She laughs, lightly, like bells chiming. "Thank you. I must apologize for last night. I didn't even ask you your name!"

"My name is Anali, m'lady." My accent is painful. I look up and around. There are guards everywhere, lining the rooftops, and outside the courtyard. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"And I, yours." She sees me looking. "You needn't worry about them," It's hard for me to understand her, she speaks so quickly. "Not with Impa here." There's the clink of metal, and then a shadow looms over me. The woman's sheer mass is terrifying. I smile as best I can.

"Young one," the slightest accent twists Impa's words out of shape. For some reason, it calms me. She must naturally speak a dialect other than the mainstream. She looks at me, white brows pushing down her eyelids. "Do you like it here?" It's as if she's asking me something of great importance.

"I… Yes," I reply, more truth in it than I'd like to admit. "Hyrule is a beautiful place."

"As I'm sure the Gerudo Valley must be. I hear your sunsets are lovely."

"Oh yes," This girl knows what she's talking about. "The best in the world."

She turns suddenly to her companion. "Impa, will you get Anali's present for me, please?"

"Princess, I can't leave you unattend –"

"Relax, Impa. Anali won't hurt me." She speaks with such certainty that I feel physically sick. All I can think of is Ganondorf chopping off her head. And her poor dad…

"Very well, Princess," she gives me a glance, "if you insist." Impa lopes away, and Zelda drifts a little closer to me, eyes brighter than before.

"A present?" I ask. "Princess, you don't have to…"

"She never leaves me alone!" My jaw drops at her words. She's speaking _Gerudo._ And semi-decent Gerudo at that! "I've been waiting to be left by myself for ages now!"

"Why would you want to be left alone?" I slip into my native tongue without even realizing it. "Being alone is terrible…"

She must see the haunt in my eyes, because her own fall. "To have so many people dote on you all the time… When all you want to do is get dirty! You've never had that before?"

I shake my head. "No one really… _dotes_ on us."

"I wish I could live like that sometimes. So free."

"We are not _free_!" My face boils. "Not anymore. Not since you whittled down everything that's important to us!"

She saddens, quiets. "I'm sorry… I know you must not understand…"

"What is there to understand?! You made us give up everything in order to keep from starving!"

She blinks. "What are you talking about?"

"You forced us into Hylian citizenship in return for food. You made dang sure, didn't you, that everything would go in your favor! Let me tell you something: We are not Hylians and we _never _will be! You can't take who we are away from us!"

Though my voice rises, she never flinches. Instead, she looks disappointed. "So that's how he's playing it, is he?"

"He who?" A stupid question with only one answer – and one I know full well.

"Your king. I'll have you know that it was Ganondorf himself who suggested merging with Hyrule. My father objected. He knew the Gerudan spirit and knew that you would never approve. He wanted to avoid any future conflicts and end relations with you amicably."

"_What_?"

"I don't know what this king of yours is playing at, but…"

Impa returns, a sheathed blade in her hand. She gives it to me, unceremonious. "Here, see how this works for you."

I slide the blade – a smaller version of my old one – out of its sheath. The metal is spotless, like a mirror in my hands, liquid, shining metal, turning the reflection of the castle into a rippling cobblestone mess. Upon its black sheath, the Hyrule family crest.

"It's beautiful," I whisper. And then tears well up in my eyes. "I don't deserve your kindness…" She takes a step towards me, her arm extended, then stops and pulls back. "None of us do…"

"On the contrary," she murmurs, glancing at Impa. "I think you do. You, most of all." Something in her voice makes me look up at her. I wipe my eyes, humiliated. My chest is tight, like I need to breathe. The dawn light is blood red now. It taints her skin, her eyes, her dress, the headpiece she's wearing… The premonition of a sword through her throat flickers in my mind's eye again, and I shiver, watching the blade in my hand.

There's movement within the castle, shadows rising from their coffins in the clear-metal window. My heart almost stops. I'll be seen at this rate…

Zelda sees too and makes her words fast. "Listen. I have dreams -visions. And I think I saw you in one of them…" She glances in the window again, at the dead coming to life. "There was a figure standing above a pit of quicksand – everything was in shadow and the sand sucked in a girl. You. I think it means…" Another glance. Faces appear in the window. "You're in terrible danger."

Kiraji comes out of nowhere, standing beside Impa. He glowers at me. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I know," I mutter, backing away, looking into the barracks, at the ever-vibrant bodies cramming into view of the window.

Impa takes the katana from me. "This will be returned to you before you go home." She follows my eyes. "Now go, before you make a scene."

I heed her advice and duck back inside, a thousand eyes watching my every move.

xxx

The princess's words haunt me the entire trip home. Abana can sense there's something wrong, and tries to distract me with practice in swordplay, but the sight of the mirror-blade makes me queasy. This size is easier to handle, and I feel like I have a lot more control now than before. My technique isn't perfect – but it's better. Much better. At night the stallchildren awaken, and we fight the night away, or else take shelter in our tents and listen to the nails tearing at the fabric…

One night, I'd almost gotten to sleep, despite the sick sound of their bones twisting into each other. Abana sat beside me, body tense. She can't stand the noise. I think the nights in these fields have made her afraid of the dark. A pair of shadows descends upon the tent, cackling and clawing. She's on her feet in a flash, scimitar striking something beyond the canvas. The other appears in the second shadow, and both rear back, only to stumble forward again. Abana pulls both blades from between their eyes, and plunges them back in. The sickly green light in their eyes goes dark and their bodies fall to pieces – then dissolve into dust. Abana gasps for breath, sinking to the ground. Their blood, as green as her uniform, coats each scimitar almost to the hilt.

The dreams have not left me. If anything, they've gotten worse – that same boy in the forest, all in green – and now, mixed in with Zelda's warning. The boy in a swirl of my quicksand and the dark figure above, cloak billowing in the sand-laden wind. Zelda's words howl over us in the storm: _You're in terrible danger. _

I have never been so uneasy stepping into stand. Our return to camp leaves me feeling nauseous – even more so now that I dream in shades of black. In the night, I find myself shivering. Black – sky, night black – black as Ganondorf's armor. Black. The color of exile. It is said that a Gerudo woman in a black uniform is damned for all eternity in the eyes of the Goddess – for to wrong her people is to wrong Her who made her. To be given black clothing is to be given a death sentence – literally or figuratively. If she is not immediately executed, she will be banished to the Wastelands or some other land far from her home – forbidden to return for any reason. Dead to her people.

A few days after our arrival, my nerves begin to subside. Abana and I get back into the swing of camp life – agricultural, training, academics, repeat. Five days in I'm starting to think I'm home free – but then I see the look in Abana's eyes. She's waiting for an explanation – we both know it. I just can't bring myself to own up and give one to her, not until the seventh day of our return, when at lunch we draw straws for guard duty that night. Normally, we wouldn't have to do anything of the sort – because normally we don't have prisoners on site. It's our age group's turn to draw – or our table's, to be more accurate. Of the pile of raw noodles, two are shorter than the others.

Abana and I report to the dungeons just after sunset, carrying trays of gray slop. It's cold down here – and dark, lit only by torches. Oaken bars block any hope of freedom. Everything smells of wet sand and urine and perspiration. Thick pillars line all sides – all of which are crisscross-wrapped in chains. There's the boulder the history book mentioned in the middle of the room, also lined with chains.

We slide the trays down beneath the bars and watch as the men – one adult and a child, scarf it down. They're thin and dirty, unharmed, but still gaunt and desperate-looking. My stomach lurches when I look them in the eyes – their sockets are hollow. The adult, worse than the boy – his long brunette hair is coated with sweat. There's sand in his ears. He's as pale as I am, and bleary. Abana backs away into the shadows, and I follow.

"It's strange how the King of Hyrule didn't mention them," she whispers, watching them eat. They're almost like animals – human Wolfos on the prowl. "Unless of course he didn't know."

"Why would King Ganondorf keep them here, then?" I ask, hand just over my lips. "Aren't we technically holding our own people captive?"

"Our king will never recognize _them _as like us," her voice and body go cold, rigid all at once. "Don't you know that? They've done nothing to prove themselves to us. None of the Hylians have. They've done nothing but push us around and treat us like dirt. Well we're not dirt. We're Gerudo – and no one can violate us like they have and get away with it." She looks at me, a sudden smile on her face, a sudden elbow in my side. "Am I right, _Sadreah_?"

Her complete and utter trust in me is suddenly overwhelming. My mouth tries its best to smile, and once again my stomach is queasy. "Y-yeah, right…" The only sound that matters for a few moments is the reverberating smack of lips throughout the dungeon, the grateful, too-human swallowing. The torchlight makes Abana's clothing look black. She backs farther into the darkness and beckons me to her. I follow, looking around though the only ones nearby to hear are the men – and they wouldn't understand Gerudo anyway. Paranoia has returned – or did it never go away?

"Now tell me about this plan of yours," she says, crouching back against the wall. I kneel with her. "You want to set the captives in the Mirror free? How?"

"Have you seen the roof? Chains hold something up, and I think that something takes root down here. I am grateful to the Goddess that it is we who drew straws tonight. I have been meaning to investigate this place for quite some time. See these chains? I think they lead to whatever's on the roof. And I think that whatever is the Mirror." She goes over to the pillar in the center of the room – lays her hands on it. The fire casts but a weak light, yet it's enough to see the spiral working its way up through the top.

"There are grooves here," she whispers, "as if something were meant to climb up it. There are grooved lines like these in other places, too, all over the fortress – along the floor, and just below the ceiling."

An internal shadow looms within us – the shadow of something larger than ourselves. Of mysterious, Goddess-like things, of ancient-times yet to come. Within me is the question of what this could mean – the certainty that I will never know, and yet the calm assurance that I will one day find out. Another, seemingly ignorant part of me knows, or claims, that my actions this night are child's folly, that I am making something out of nothing.

_You're right,_ some ancient part of me says. _I will not, in this day and age, be meant to know what lies above the two of us. _I look at Abana – and feel a sudden pity. She will never know a thing beyond what she sees. But I… I feel a sudden omniscience – knowledge that I, someday, when I am both past and future, will possess a greater power than I have now.

"OW!" Abana cries out, snapping me back into the present. Even the men stop eating and look up.

"What is it?! What?!"

"It's nothing," she whispers. "I just cut my finger is all – on the grooves. I'll be fine." She winks at me and sticks her finger in her mouth. "Let's keep looking, shall we?"

"But Abana – you don't know how dirty that pillar could be! You should go wash off…"

"I'll be fine, scaredy-cat! Relax." She pats my arm – but something in me says she needs to leave. Now.

"Abana, please…"

"All right, all right, fine! If it so pleases you… I'll be right back. You keep looking!" She turns tail and runs out of the dungeon. I follow her to the door, but no further, remaining at my post.

It's then I hear footsteps. For some stupid reason I find myself hiding in the shadows, against the wall. I can't see anyone coming our way – they must be using the other entrance, in the side of the room opposite my own. I jump when I feel fingers over my mouth – and then realize they're mine. Stupid blueberry.

The steps stop.

Silence.

And then, a murmur.

"I'm so sorry they left you down here."

My heart almost stops and my legs give a little beneath me, like they're made of water. It's _Nabooru_!

The man's voice – croaking and dry, replies, "It's all right, Princess. Anything to see you again…"

"You say these things in front of your son?" She sounds like she's smiling when she says it. "Have you not a wife?"

"I lost her when I lost you, so long ago…"

"I am sorry. You know I couldn't stay with you – not with him on the loose."

"I know. How…How is the girl?"

"You mean our daughter? I know not that either. You know I had to give her up."

Her daughter…? She had to give up her daughter...?

"And this king of yours… What of him?"

"As dark-hearted as ever. Kirin, you know I couldn't keep her – not with him vying for me. He was livid enough when he found out I was with child."

"I know – and that's what angers me most. Nabooru, I… I am so sorry. For everything."

"Don't, Kirin. This is the hand we were dealt – and this is the hand we'll play. I've come for a different reason. You must escape from here, and quickly. Ganondorf is going to kill both you and the boy if you don't leave tonight!"

"What? Nabooru… Can't you vouch for us? Get him to reconsider?"

"If I thought I could, would I be here? Stand up – I'll rid you of your shackles."

I run. As fast as I can – away from the dungeon, away from Nabooru and her lover – away from everything. What do I do? Should I tell? Should I go back and confront her?

No matter. I find myself huddled under the covers in my room, shivering, freezing, heart pounding and yet chest still all at once with the utter hollowness inside it. My room is pitch-black. I breathe in sand – cough it out, breathe in more.

She had a child - I'd completely forgotten. How could I have not seen? How could I have let my own thoughts cloud me from the obvious? Where or when I do not know, but… My Princess had a baby. Someone within this camp – an orphan I know? A girl I sit beside at lunch? Or has her sand been poured out into dust beneath me already? Have I breathed in her time – swallowed the infant's hours within me?

I take sudden care when I breathe.

Ganondorf tore her family apart – all in jealousy, all for his own sake. Nabooru was afraid to be a mother because of _him_ – and motherhood, to us, and to the Goddess, is sacred. He violated her. Destroyed her very hopes before their foundations could even be set, and elsewhere, across the world, is another family waiting to be uprooted, waiting for his black armor to scorch them. Ganondorf himself suggested unification with the Hylians, and then blamed the move on them – to keep his people from detesting him. He violated our princess. Violated us all –

And my heart can take no more.

My decision has been made.

There will be no Mirror in my future.

xxx

My body is weak. No blood reaches my limbs. Fingers and toes numb. They don't exist. No world around me, no walls, no sky above, no sand, no time, no souls.

Nothing exists but the scourge of cloth hanging over one rung of the ladder to my bed.

A mistake, they must have made a mistake.

_My heart can take no more… _

I am sinking through the floor. In quicksand. I fall to my knees, trembling, body a shell. I remember the cold stares I'd felt all day. The reproach, the disgust – intensified with the heat of the sun. Even Abana. Even Abana distrusted me today. Avoided me.

And now I know why.

Shadows fall over me – a black-cloaked figure, no - guards in purple. They seize me by the shoulders and heave me inside my room. One kicks me – striking my face. My hand flies to my cheek – but I don't feel it.

"Stand up!" One of the two women barks. I do, weak and shaky. The other accosts my clothing – tearing off the blue, the precious, sacred blue…

What have I done to deserve this? What inky sin have I committed?

The first guard thrusts me the shadowy cloth. "Put these on."

"_Why?!_" I cry, tears springing into my eyes. "What have I done?!"

The second strikes me again. "Get dressed!"

I do – sobbing as I go. My katana and shield are strapped to my back and the guards drag me out. I can do nothing but look around and feel the eyes on me – everywhere, everywhere as I drag my heels in the dust. The infant's dust. Panic – every panic. A crowd is forming behind us – and in the distance I see a loping figure in black armor. Beside him is the princess.

"NABOORU!" I scream. In vain, I know. All in vain.

They take me to the bridge just outside camp grounds, where far below the tossing, sinking rapids rise and swell and crash over the rocks.

They throw me to the ground. The planks of the bridge sway and buck under my weight, and in the clear, white, shadow-less light, I see, for the first time, the stain upon me. I realize it fully for the first time:

They've given me black clothes.

I am being exiled.

Nabooru, stone faced, approaches, scimitars in hand.

"Princess, please!" My knuckles, white also, dig into the wood. I can already feel the splinters under my nails. "What's going on? I don't know what's happening to me!"

"Justice, child," her voice cuts through the rushing water – reaches the mass behind her, the eyes that watch us with pleasure. But they all seem a blur – it's just her and me on this rickety string of ropes. "You must be punished."  
"What did I DO?!" Against my will, I start sobbing again. She strikes me with the butt of her scimitar. There's more pain in it than there should be. _I trusted you…_

Zelda's words surface, barely present – more than a feeling than thought: _You are in great danger. _

"You set free the King's prisoners," she explains, "led them past the gate and out of this land."

"No! I would never! You _know _I didn't - YOU did!" She strikes me again, growling under her breath.

"We have a witness." She waves someone forward, and from the crowd of bodies comes a girl in dark green, as guilt-stricken as I should look.

Abana.

"How could you…?!" _I trusted you, too… _Her face sears into my eyes, my mind – she's too painful to take in – and yet I can't tear myself away. She's hurt, too, like the black of my shirt causes her physical pain.

"I saw you running away from the dungeon – you were running and the captives were gone!"

"I'm telling you, it wasn't me!" My voice rises to a shrill pitch – shriller even than the surf below. "Please believe me!" I look around at the others. No sympathy in any face. No hesitation. "WHY ME?! WHY NOT HER OR NABOORU?!"

"Because you made friends with the Hylians!" Abana shouts. "You were with that farm girl and the princess!"

"You KNEW what I was planning! You KNEW what I was willing to do for you!"

"You expect me to believe that pack of lies now?! When I saw you running and the prisoners gone – what was I supposed to think?!"

"Not this!" My shoulders shake. The sun beats down like a whip. "Anything but this!" I have but a moment's peace before the loping man in black appears beside Nabooru.

"Get rid of her," he says. "Beat her and cast her out. I have no use for traitors."

After one slow blink, Nabooru advances.

"No…" I'm begging this time. "Princess, please!"

The first blow comes down. Then the second, the third. My head, my chest, my gut. She kicks me across the bridge and back. A few women try to jump in, but Ganondorf holds a hand up to stop them. Through it all I know he's watching with that satisfied glimmer in his eyes. My bones rack together and there's blood on the oaken planks. I cough when I try to breathe, and I can already feel the bruises. Nabooru rips off my sword and shield and flings them over the bridge, then drags me to my feet, hand around my neck, the other in the seat of my pants. I'm teetering on the edge.

Warm lips touch my ear, but I'm fading and can barely feel them. Red hot spirit-temper cooled off to his level. He watches behind us with cold-wrath eyes.

Two words I can scarcely hear from her mouth: "Forgive me."

And then her foot presses to my back and I'm flying, falling over the cliff.


End file.
